


fever pitch

by oswinne



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: (i'll up the rating when that happens), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Idols, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Slow Burn, at least romantically, some side ships involving jihoon and daniel but endgame!nielwink, there will probably be smut fairly soon bc let's face it this is me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-11-14 23:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18062123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oswinne/pseuds/oswinne
Summary: Jihoon is an Alpha whose dreams of the stage have finally been realised... but everything he has worked so hard for is put in jeopardy when he goes into heat for the first time,on live television.





	1. one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edited but not beta'd  
> *some inspiration for Jihoon's predicament taken from Love Is An Illusion

The best moment in Jihoon's life is a blur.

 

It's far too fast, and far from glamorous, but it's precious to Jihoon all the same. First times often are.

 

Though he knows every note, every point of choreography by heart, he can hardly recall the time elapsed before the lights are fading. It’s partly because he’s been up since dawn for pre-recording, and partly because the exhilaration makes it hard to think beyond each current second. Nonetheless, the moment coalesced from sweat and tears, steeped in a yearning finally realised, shines so brightly that it seems to shimmer; leaving an indelible impression on his memory, even as the exact details elude him.

 

The heady rush of adrenaline. The heat of the stage lights. His heartbeat a rhythm loud enough to rival the backing track in his ears. It’s a pleasant haze he’ll revisit countless times from now on and hold close whenever the walls of the practice room start to feel like they’re closing in.

 

Seongwu tells him that the first time is different for everyone. Some are on edge, exhilarated from the adrenaline pumping through their system. While others experience a comfort, a warmth not unlike coming home.

 

For Jihoon, a sense of security had prevailed above all else.

 

As an Alpha with the supposed looks of an Omega, he has never fully been accepted by either group. Caught between two worlds; unable to fit into the boxes given to him. So he had found his own; a box with three walls and a mirror, and the opportunity for dance to deliver the ownership over his own body that he had sorely missed.

 

It’s a relief to find that doesn’t change when the mirror is replaced by the writhing mass of a live audience. It’s a relief to find that, though this is only the beginning for him, he’d been right in feeling there was somewhere he belonged.

 

It’s a pity Seongwu has a schedule that prevented him from attending in person, but though Jihoon doesn't begrudge him for it, he looks forward to guilting a free meal out of his hyung all the same.

 

(Seongwu likes to think he knows Jihoon’s tricks well enough to resist, but he always caves in the end anyway.)

 

Jihoon comes off stage light-headed, struggling to grasp that what he has looked forward to for so long has finally happened, even as he’s wrapped in the arms of his elated manager and ushered back down to the dressing rooms. He greets the seniors he passes on his way out in a bit of daze.

 

Later, Jihoon will monitor the performance with his manager for anything he could have done better; Minhyun has a good eye for that kind of thing, and Jihoon has grown to appreciate it. It melds well with Jihoon's own relentless perfectionism; an occupational hazard of being an alpha in a competitive industry, he supposes.

 

But for now, he'll let himself revel in the achievement that is his debut stage. Even though he’s bone-tired, his few minutes on stage after so long waiting is enough to revitalise him more than any amount of sleep he could have scrounged in the meantime.

 

After all, this career is a waiting game more than anything; one where you have to learn to sustain yourself on whatever snatches of satisfaction you can grasp.

 

All the same, he does get a bit jittery cooped up in his shared dressing room as they await the call for the ending stage. Minhyun is somewhere making a phone call and JIhoon’s eyes are starting to hurt from playing his mobile games for too long.

 

He has only just stepped out into the hallway with the intention of going for a walk to stretch his legs, when he’s approached by one of the Music Bank staff.

 

He assumes she’s staff, anyway, even though her lanyard and ID card are obscured by the sizeable flower bouquet in her arms.

 

“Jihoon-ssi, this was sent to the studio for you.”

 

“For me?” he asks, taken aback. “Are you sure?”

 

“Very,” she assures, seemingly relieve to heft it out of her arms and into those of the intended recipient. “It arrived an hour or so ago but we had to wait til it was cleared by security.

 

“Ah, thank you, then,” Jihoon acknowledges, inclining his head in bewildered gratitude as she hurries off to see to something else amidst the flurry of movement backstage.

 

It’s a beautiful arrangement; yellow roses interspersed with tiny white flowers Jihoon doesn’t know the name of and rich green foliage to balance out the vibrance.

 

Who would send him flowers on the day of his debut stage? Especially as expensive as these.

 

It’s not a very long list and his heart hammers at the thought that some of the suspects might not be so unlikely as he thought.

 

He eyes the notecard a little tensely, and take a breath before flipping it open.

 

All at once, his expression melts into a smile.

 

_Congratulations Jihoonie~_

_I hope this doesn’t get lost amidst all the gifts from your new admirers!_

_Keep up the hard work, it’s only upward from here, ok?_

_xxOng_

 

It’s so typical of Seongwu, equal parts thoughtful and theatrical given the extravagance and the attention he’s sure to attract when he returns to the waiting room he shares with other rookies. Jihoon supposes he will have to rethink his plan to weedle free dinner out of his hyung now that he has received a gift like this.

 

Glancing up, Jihoon’s rising spirits are stopped in their tracks when he notices someone further down the hallway is staring at him.

 

It’s not out of envy or curiosity as far as he can tell. They are expressionless, but even so Jihoon has no trouble putting a name to the face.

 

Everyone and their mother knew Kang Daniel was going to be a special MC for Music Bank today.

 

Everyone and their mother knows Kang Daniel, full stop.

 

The smile slides off Jihoon’s face as he returns the look apprehensively, feeling restless and dare he say _exposed_ though no verbal acknowledgement has passed between them. Indeed it would be difficult, given they are at opposite ends of the hallway, although heedless to those passing back and forth between.

 

The company had gone for a charismatic concept for Jihoon’s first release and the sensuality of the music video released online the night before is reflected now in the soft satin of his shirt, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a silver pendant necklace resting against his skin. It’s comfortable, and the outfit had given him a certain amount of confidence on stage, but under the unsolicited scrutiny he can’t help but feel self-conscious. His fingers clench around the stems of the bouquet, bringing it up to clutch against his chest.

 

Is it possible Daniel can sense that Jihoon, too, is an Alpha?

 

There can be no doubt what the senior idol is; his Alpha class conveyed in aura as much as anything else.

 

Maybe Jihoon, without realising, has been secreting pheromones strong enough that Daniel can pick up on it. Perhaps his earlier spike of anxiety had caught his notice.

 

Without thinking, Jihoon takes a deep breath through his nose but there’s no telling which scent in the air around him belongs to Daniel. No insight to be found there, then.

 

His stomach rolls at the thought of attracting attention from the older man. Of heedlessly riling him somehow and then having to face whatever consequences that may reap.

 

Not just because he is a senior, and a renowned one at that, but also because Daniel’s reputation precedes him; he is gentler than his appearance betrays, known for being sweet to staff and fans alike — and yet there is none of that, not even a _hint_ , in the cold stare that holds Jihoon in place.

 

The younger idol is reminded that no one ever truly knows the person behind the public facade everyone is allowed to see. It’s a truth applicable to Kang Daniel as much as to anyone else.

 

He suppresses the urge to gulp, feeling that any sudden movement on his part could trigger something neither of them can predict, let alone deal with. Fortunately, he does not have to wait too long for Daniel to be the one to turn away, shaking his head as if waking from a dream and not sparing Jihoon another glance as he walks away.

 

With those piercing eyes no longer upon him and the bustle of the hallway no longer subdued by their weight, Jihoon thinks that perhaps he has made too much of it. Perhaps he simply reminded Daniel of someone he knew or hadn’t been the subject of Daniel’s stare at all.

 

All the same, even as he returns to the waiting room now with bouquet awkwardly in hand, he can’t shake the certainty that he was the one for whom the attention had been intended. His cheeks are still curiously warm, even after the fact.

 

He almost forgets about it entirely, though, until everyone is piling onto the stage for the first place announcement at the end of the show and Jihoon is being tugged forward and arranged by staff until he is standing just shy of none other than Kang Daniel.

 

Clearly, Jihoon has used up all his luck in an effort to stand on this stage at all.

 

He swallows, averting his eyes determinedly and instead starting out at the audience, gaze travelling over the faces of those watching with a soft smile.

 

As he stands shoulder to shoulder with all the other idols who have been promoting on Music Bank that night, there's a growing warmth enveloping his insides, crawling under his skin until it reaches every inch of his body.

 

Is this what Seongwu was talking about? That sense of belonging that rises up from within and floods his senses. That sense of belonging that Jihoon has been searching for. In this moment he feels more than ever that he knows who he is and where his place should be.

 

Rookie though he may be, he is finally doing what he has always felt he was meant to, surrounded by people who not only understand the passion that drives him, but share it. He barely knows any of the other idols crammed onto the stage, at least not personally, but the implication of comradery is enough.

 

He soaks, contented, in the feeling —

 

— and then the burning starts.

 

That’s when Jihoon begins to think that something isn’t right.

 

No longer a warmth he can derive comfort from, it slowly but surely feels like he is being scorched from the inside out, skin pulled taut against his bones.

 

Jihoon doesn’t know what it is, but someone behind the camera is starting the countdown until they go live and all he can think, as beads of sweat drip more persistently down his temples, is that: _this is wrong._

 

Surely it can’t be _this_ hot under the stage lights, even with so many people crammed in to await the first place announcement. Though, neither could he have fallen ill so quickly, _right?_

 

Blinking the sweat out of his eyes and shaking his head to try to clear it, he smiles wanly out at the live audience and hopes he doesn’t look as terrible as he feels. Wherever this fever has come from, it is hitting him fast and hard.

 

Why did they have to put him so close to the front?

 

He’s not a contender for first place, though his debut was not unanticipated thanks to some good media play from the company. The extra sliver of screentime is an advantage Minhyun may have negotiated for and Jihoon should make the most of it, but in this moment all he wants to do is shrink away from it.

 

Wants to fold in on himself and seek some kind of antidote to this feverish state he’s in; body clamouring for a relief he can’t put a name to. Articulated only by whatever has hooked itself into his gut and decided to _pull,_ in a desperation without direction.

 

His breaths are coming short and fast now and the sea of faces in the audience is starting to make him nauseous, so he finds his gaze rooted on the person he had been so hesitant to be placed near when was ushered onto stage along with everyone else.

 

Kang Daniel’s intense stare may have unsettled him in the hallway earlier but now, just the sight of him to Jihoon’s left seems to dull the ache in his bones. Just slightly; enough that he finds himself unwilling to look away from the sturdy shoulders or from the line of his neck as it curves from collar to ear so invitingly that Jihoon wants to keen and bury his face there—

 

Jihoon recoils from the sudden, unexpected thought and from the just as unfamiliar sensation of something slick pooling between his legs. His mind is so foggy now that the panic that rises barely stands a chance of translating into coherent thought.

 

His world is reduced to the sound of his own heartbeat, the constant burning of his whole self, and the way his vision inexplicably tunnels to one person alone, as the edges begin to grey and fizz with static. Suddenly all the other scents his sensitive Alpha nose had picked up on from those around him fade so dramatically as to be non-existent, and he wonders idly, as he teeters on his feet, whether he is hallucinating the cloying smell of peach that fills the air in their wake.

 

The worst moment in Jihoon’s life creeps up on him, weighs on him with ever growing pressure until every cell in his body cries out and he can’t stand it anymore.

 

He crumples right there on the stage and then everything after is a blur.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

The sharp, antiseptic scent is what Jihoon notices first.

 

It assaults his sensitive nose rather unkindly, but it does clue him in as he battles his groggy, newly-awakened state. The scent binds the sterile white room, the faint beeping in his periphery and the scratch of the blankets on his bed together into a picture that tells him he is in a hospital. Even as he blearily blinks the sleep away, he at least knows where he is, though is unable to remember let alone speculate as to why exactly that might be the case.

 

A glance down at himself reveals he is clothed in the patterned, mint green of a thin hospital gown but he can’t bring himself to look at the IV drip in his arm for longer than a few seconds. He feels sore all over, and utterly exhausted. Even after hours upon hours of dance practice, he has never felt like this.

 

He half expects Minhyun to be at his bedside, admonishment primed to roll off his tongue at Jihoon for whatever it is he did to land himself here on the most important day of his career so far.

 

If it’s even the same day anymore. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out. A few hours? A few days?

 

It’s there in the back of his mind; in a murky sort of way. He remembers the way his blood roared hot beneath his skin. He remembers the haze that had descended. He remembers starting to fall, but he doesn’t remember hitting the ground.

 

_What the hell had happened to him up on that stage?_

 

Heatstroke? Fatigue? Food poisoning?

 

Jihoon doesn’t have a clue, nor does he have anyone to ask because he is quite alone. He wonders how much it cost to get a private hospital room like this - would the company's insurance cover this? - and panics internally at yet more money being added to his trainee debt.

 

Feeling restless, he throws back his blankets and slips out of bed, shivering as his bare feet meet the cold of the linoleum floor. After only a moment’s hesitation, he wraps a small hand around the metal stand of his intravenous infusion pump where it stands at his bedside, thankfully on wheels, and pulls it with him as he trundles towards the door.

 

As he nears, he can just make out the buzz of hushed, agitated voices coming from outside his room and opening the door just a crack allows him to make out the words.

 

_“-ncompetent and frankly irresponsible!”_

 

Jihoon does not recognise the man’s voice nor can he see his face through the sliver of a gap in the door but he certainly knows who it is that speaks next.

 

“We appreciate your assistance in this matter,” Minhyun says and Jihoon doesn’t have to see his face to know the guarded expression he’s wearing, “but aren’t you overstepping?”

 

“Is it overstepping to expect that you people would have taken precautions?” Whoever it is is clearly frustrated and Jihoon bristles at Minhyun being spoken to in that way. “For God’s sake you didn’t even have any inhibitors on hand. Isn’t that just basic first aid?”

 

There it is again; that scent of peach although this time faint and soured rather than rich and sweet. It can’t be Minhyun, a beta’s, scent and Jihoon once again wonders if he’s imagining it.

 

“I understand that this has been a stressful event for you and we’re sorry for the trouble we’ve caused you, but you shouldn’t be making assumptions about Jihoon’s circumstances.” Jihoon wonders who Minhyun is speaking to, that he still endeavours to keep his words polite though his tone is a hard one.

 

“I'm not _assuming_ anything. It would be clear as day to anyone what he is after that little stunt.”

 

“In which case, you understand our reservations about ‘that little stunt’, as you call it, becoming too public a knowledge.”

 

“All I’m saying is if you’re fool enough to let him get into this then shouldn’t you at least be keeping track so you can prepare for this kind of thing? If it had happened backstage unsupervised, things could have been a lot wor-”

 

“Trust me,” Minhyun cuts the man off coldly. “I am acutely aware of how much worse this could have been but what I don’t understand is why you, a perfect stranger when it comes down to it, think you care more than I do about Jihoon’s wellbeing.”

 

 _Alright, that’s enough,_ Jihoon thinks.

 

He can tell Minhyun is about to lose his cool so he opens the door more fully before the conversation can escalate further.

 

The two speakers cut off immediately at the sight of Jihoon in the doorway, but the latter is himself struck silent in surprise as he discovers the man with whom Minhyun verged upon argument in the hallway is none other than Kang Daniel.

 

Though no longer in the clothes he had worn on the Music Bank set, Daniel is looking far more haggard than Jihoon remembers him being either in person or on screen.

 

If Jihoon feels like he's been through Hell, then Daniel looks it.

 

The older man stands there, shifting from foot to foot, gaze travelling over Jihoon from head to toe as if checking for injury. The attention brings a heat to Jihoon’s cheeks that he tries to ignore, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the thin hospital gown. Just the sight of the older idol only serves to make something inside Jihoon more restless.

 

Jihoon warily inclines his head in acknowledgement, before his eyes flick to Minhyun in alarm and bewilderment.

 

“Jihoon, did we disturb you?” Minhyun asks in concern, moving to place a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, let’s get you back to bed.”

 

“I’m fine, hyung,” Jihoon smiles, albeit weakly, up at his friend and manager. “Just a little...disorientated.”

 

“I’ll go get the doctor,” Daniel says suddenly and turns on his heel before Minhyun can object or, Jihoon senses, tell him to take his leave.

 

Clearly, Minhyun doesn’t want Daniel here and Jihoon has to wonder why he is in the first place. Just one of many questions Jihoon hopes he’ll get answers to when the doctor arrives.

 

“Hi Jihoon, I'm Dr Kim,” greets the woman who enters the room, dressed in a white lab coat and a warm smile, just a few moments after Jihoon has settled back into bed. “But you can call me Sejeong noona, if you like. I’m glad to see you're awake.”

 

“Thank you, I'm feeling much better now… though still kind of exhausted,” Jihoon admits a little bashfully from where he is propped up against the pillows.

 

“Of course you would be," the doctor affirms kindly, as if Jihoon has any idea why his body would be feeling like he ran a marathon without the medal to show for it _._ “Your body's had quite a shock.”

 

“It certainly feels like it," he agrees before biting his lip. “But what, uh, kind of shock? I don't- remember much after the cameras started rolling…”

 

Sejeong makes a sympathetic noise. “That's not uncommon, having difficulty with memory. You were fading in and out of consciousness for a while before you arrived here. Though I expect at least some of your memories from the experience will resurface over the next few days.”

 

“Noona, what- happened to me back there?”

 

“Well, your body underwent a rapid onset of physiological change marking the beginning of your estrous cycle. You would have experienced a number of symptoms; dizzy spells, fever, cognitive impairment, self-lubrication and hyperosmia, to name a few. You fainted from the onslaught of it all.”

 

There's a word in there that Jihoon's mind snags on. He vaguely remembers sweating a lot but it's an odd way to term increased perspiration...

 

There’s a pause, and the lack of any strong reaction on Jihoon’s face must prompt Dr. Kim to add, “Simply put, Jihoon, you went into heat.”

 

Slowly, slowly - comprehension dawns, trickles in like morning light from between the blinds that wakes you far earlier than you’re prepared for - and far too persistently for you to return to the gorgeously dark slumber that kept you ignorant from the dawn of a new day.

 

“I- what--?” Jihoon startles, spluttering as he tries to formulate a response. The doctor waits patiently for him to find his words. “But I couldn‘t-- I mean… I tested as an Alpha, they told me…”

 

“The diagnostic tests aren't perfect. They made a mistake the first time around. It’s not unheard of.”

 

“What if they were right the first time, and _this time_ is the mistake-”

 

“Jihoon,” the way Sejeong says his name is too close to pity for his comfort. He feels like a child as her warm, patient tone seeks to coddle him; to break it gently. “There is little doubt now that you have presented. Early signs can be telling, yes, but you never went into rut, did you?”

 

He can’t disagree there.

 

“As for the other indicators, well…” she continues, “based on what little Minhyun has told me of your history, we think it’s likely that they were psychosomatic. The psychological stress you were under impacted your physiological state.”

 

Jihoon must look as lost as he feels because Dr. Kim is quick to reiterate the bottom line. “In other words, you wanted to be an Alpha so badly that your body convinced itself you were.”

 

“So...then…” his voice cracks and he tries to swallow but his throat is dry. “Why did things change? Why now?”

 

_Why couldn't I have just stayed that way forever? Even if it wasn't real?_

 

_Why did my body suddenly have to betray me like that and ruin everything?_

 

“It was only a matter of time before your true Omegan characteristics would begin to show through, but we think that in this case the development was triggered by proximity to a dominant Alpha.”

 

The Universe certainly has a sense of humour.

 

A dominant Alpha. A member of an Alpha class that tends to boast a consistent, supposedly superior bloodline - and denotes a superior strength and power to accompany it.

 

He wants to ask just which dominant asshole is responsible for this whole mess but he already has a sinking feeling about the answer he’ll receive. Perhaps the doctor senses Jihoon’s thoughts because she continues on to add:

 

“Mr Kang has allowed us to conduct enough tests to conclude that, at this stage, it is most likely to be his biology that had such a potent effect on your own.”

 

“So he made me like this? Is that what you're saying?”

 

“You have always been who you are now, Jihoon. It was just a matter of time until you found out. Mr Kang’s presence just helped speed up the process.”

 

He doesn't have anything to say to that.

 

“Congratulations, Jihoon. You're an Omega.”

 

Dr. Kim sounds genuinely pleased for him ― that he is now better in tune with his biology and associated identity.

 

She says it in what must be her usual gentle, matter of fact manner but Jihoon hears the diagnosis as a death sentence ― because that's what it is, career-wise at least.

 

Omegas, already a minority in the population, are even rarer in the entertainment industry.

 

For all the strategies available to them where managing their heat cycle is concerned, the shadow of stigma and rumour follows far too closely for any to feel secure in a profession kept afloat by the tide of public opinion. Sooner or later some scandal or mishap will pull them under. So few set sail to begin with, especially when finding a trustworthy management is fraught with its own danger and deception.

 

Though living as an Alpha until now, Jihoon has nonetheless heard and shuddered at the horror stories of Omega trainees whose dreams of the stage have been taken advantage of by sex trafficking rings masquerading as entertainment companies.

 

When it comes to Omegas who have made it far enough to become well-regarded idols, only one name comes to mind in recent years and the way things had ended is far from an encouragement to Jihoon.

 

By all accounts, his career is over before it really even began.

 

He doesn't know where that leaves him, when this path has been all he has.

 

“Now, I'll leave you to rest and get used to the idea. Myself or one of the nurses in the ward will be by later today to talk with you about where to go from here.”

 

Jihoon nods faintly, barely registering her words, and Dr. Kim sighs.

 

“I know this is a big shock for you, but you've learned something new about yourself today and that's exciting. Keep your chin up, sweetheart,” she adds with a small smile before leaving.

 

The silence is heavy after the doctor’s exit, and Minhyun shifts to sit by Jihoon on the bed. Wordlessly, Jihoon leans forward and buries his face into his manager’s shoulder.

 

Minhyun’s hand comes up to card through Jihoon’s hair as the younger boy fights to keep from breaking into sobs.

 

“Don’t worry, we’ll work things out,” he murmurs into Jihoon’s hair soothingly as he gathers him into a hug. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

 

Jihoon lets himself be held. The reassurances repeat, steady and genuine, over and over as if the more Minhyun says them the more likely the both of them are to believe them.

 

Jihoon has trusted Minhyun in everything thus far. He desperately wants to trust him now. But this might just be outside of his control.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometime later, when Minhyun is out taking a phone call, there’s a knock on Jihoon’s door. His tears have long since dried but he hastily wipes at his eyes anyway.

 

The door opens to reveal an unexpected face - more fool Jihoon that after everything thus far it still catches him off guard - and he regrets that from his place tucked in bed, he is not able to easily leap up and close the door in the visitor’s face.

 

“Minhyun-ssi had to go check in at the company so I said I'd keep an eye out for you while he―”

 

“Are you even allowed in here?” Jihoon cuts him off, acid on his tongue.

 

Kang Daniel is the last person he wants to see right now. Or close to it.

 

He doesn’t think it’s likely Minhyun would have enlisted his help for anything, either.

 

“Excuse me?” The older idol looks vaguely affronted.

 

“Last time we were near each other things didn't exactly go swimmingly for me. _Thanks for that, by the way._ So I'm wondering why they'd let you in here if it could happen again.”

 

“Are you saying it’s _my_ fault you're here?" Daniel still looks bewildered.

 

Jihoon throws back the blanket and makes to get out of bed, but Daniel rushes forward to stop him with a hand on his shoulder like Jihoon has undergone some kind of life-threatening operation instead of a mortifying public ordeal.

 

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps, shrugging Daniel off but acquiescing to stay where he is, seated on the bed with his legs hanging over the side. The other man backs off.

 

“You did those extra tests, right?” Jihoon prompts with irritation, incensed by the singer's apparent naivety. Or frank unwillingness to shoulder the responsibility. “So the doctors would have told you that it was _your_ dominant Alpha… _whatever_ that triggered my- my…” His mouth runs dry, unable to get the word out.

 

“Heat," Daniel supplies flatly, as if that one syllable alone wasn't enough to bring Jihoon's hopes and dreams crashing to the ground. “Your body went into heat - for the first time, or so I hear - when it came into proximity with a dominant Alpha.”

 

Jihoon can't help but blush at the event being stated so plainly. “Exactly," he says, clearing his throat. “If you weren't there it wouldn't have happened.”

 

“Well I was there. In my workplace, doing the job I was paid to do. You can't blame me for that.”

 

“I'm not saying you did it on purpose-”

 

“-I didn't _do_ anything-”

 

“-but it's still because of you that I'm like this!”

 

“Like what?” Daniel demands, giving up on civility much in the same way Jihoon, stressed and distressed, had abandoned it from the get-go. “Like _what_?”

 

 _Ruined,_ is what Jihoon wants to say but all he has to offer is a choked back sob.

 

“An Omega?" Daniel asks again and Jihoon flinches. “No, you are ‘like this’ because this is _what you are_. You are ‘like this’ because this is how you were born.”

 

Jihoon's chest heaves and his hands curl into fists at his sides as he blinks back hurt, furious tears. It had been hard enough to stomach hearing when sugar-coated from Dr. Kim, but for the truth of himself to be waved in front of him so callously by someone with no stake in the matter ― it's more than he can bear in this moment. Especially from someone who has _everything;_ except the notion as to what it's like to lose it all in an instant.

 

It's excruciating how close Jihoon had come to something _finally_ going right. He was close enough to taste his future on the tip of his tongue but all in one night it has fallen apart. All because of Kang Daniel and his _stupid_ fucking Alpha genes. That’s all he can focus on; that everything could have worked out if not for such an unlucky encounter. If not for one man.

 

A man who does not seem to understand the gravity of what he has done to ― what he has _taken_ from ― Jihoon. A man who is _still. fucking. talking_.

 

“Sure,” Daniel is saying with a frustrated toss of his hands, “most of the rest of us know this shit about ourselves earlier in the scheme of things but it's not _my_ fault you were so God damn repressed!”

 

The exclamation bounces off the walls of the hospital room and Jihoon rues the knowledge that it will echo in his head just as much after this.

 

“Get out.”

 

It's a command. Daniel may be an Alpha, and a dominant one at that, but in this, Jihoon demands to be obeyed.

 

“I don't need or want your help," he continues coldly. “I am fine on my own and I don't need anything from the likes of you, least of all company, or whatever it is you thought you were doing by being here.”

 

“I don't care what Minhyun hyung may or may not have asked of you. Get out," he says again, proud of the absence of a tremor in his voice and overwhelmed with relief when Daniel turns to silently comply.

 

Jihoon heaves a sigh but his breath catches again when Daniel stops, hand on the door knob, and turns back to face him.

 

“Suppressants," he says simply, before gesturing to the IV machine at Jihoon's shoulder. “They're flooding your body with heat suppressants while you're here so you're lucid enough to talk with them about treatment.”

 

Jihoon blinks at him, dumbfounded.

 

Daniel's mouth twists wryly. “Whatever you may think of me, I would never have come in here if it was going to put you at risk.”

 

And with that Daniel leaves, just as Jihoon asked him to. The door closes not with a bang, but with a soft click.

 

Jihoon's shoulders slump, suddenly deflated. He can't bring himself to move.

 

He's still there, half in-half out of bed, when Dr. Kim stops by, asking in confusion why he's sitting there getting cold feet instead of resting properly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this first chapter was getting longer than i expected so i decided to cut it here, which means we haven't actually gotten up to The Pitch(TM) yet...(but if you read the tags then you probably know what's coming~)
> 
> p.s. come say hi on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/oswinne)!


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon grapples with the aftermath of the incident at Music Bank, and Minhyun might just have a plan for how to save face and consequently Jihoon's career. After all, the only thing the public loves more than a scandal is...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait on chapter 2! it's a fairly important one in terms of setting up the premise for the uhhh entire fic so i wanted to get it right :) but also, if i didn't push it out today i wasn't sure when i'd next get the chance so hopefully it doesn't disappoint! xx

**minhyunnie hyung**

stop watching it

14:04

 

i'm not ??

14:04

 

Jihoon replies glibly, as if he hasn't just paused the video in question on his phone in order to text his manager back.

 

**minhyunnie hyung**

i know you well enough to know when you're lying

..even through text

it'll just make you feel worse

14:05

 

i knoww

i said i'm not watching it :((

14:06

 

**minhyunnie hyung**

okay suit yourself

anyway

i'm coming over soon to discuss our next steps

14:08

 

aye aye captain

14:08

 

**minhyunnie hyung**

and since you probably forgot to have lunch i'll get chicken on the way

14:09

 

:DDD

14:09

 

Jihoon closes the chat and returns to the cut of the Music Bank livestream he’s been watching on repeat for longer than even he knows is healthy. The one where the camera, focusing on Kang Daniel and his co-MC, had caught in the background the moment Jihoon, pink-faced and disoriented, collapses. He’s no masochist but he’s found himself unable to resist the temptation of watching anyway.

 

The live broadcast had been cut short as soon as the producers realised what was happening but in those last few pixelated seconds, Jihoon swears he can see Daniel, who has turned around at the commotion, bend down to scoop Jihoon’s body up into his arms.

 

Maybe it’s that, more than the morbid fascination of watching his career unravel in a mere couple of seconds, that draws Jihoon’s finger to the replay button. As if each time he watches might be the time he catches just a glimpse more of Daniel’s actions and hence his intentions. As if just outside his grasp, though brought minutely closer for a heart-pounding second everytime he watches, is the understanding of whether Daniel had gathered him into his arms out of pure, territorial Alpha instinct or instead out of the concern and kindness of a stranger.

 

He’s not sure what difference it would make, really. He cannot remember those arms around him, but has been assured Minhyun did not leave his side for a moment as soon as his charge was offstage. If not for the footage he would not even know Daniel was the one who carried him.

 

Perhaps he watches the split second of Park Jihoon and Kang Daniel caught by the camera in order to reconcile it with the Park Jihoon and Kang Daniel who had nearly come to blows in the hospital room. Even a day or so after the fact, he cannot shake the confusion at the attentiveness of the older idol whom was, and is still, practically a stranger. He cannot shake the eerie memory of the moment in the hallway, either; when Daniel had looked at him as if he knew what was going to happen.

 

The resentment Jihoon had felt towards Daniel in the aftermath has since weakened, now that the shock and embarrassment have also receded. Jihoon has always felt that any degree of hate is too strong an emotion to waste on someone you will never meet again.

 

Management had tried to suppress dissemination of the video by news outlets but there was little point, or effect, when it had aired live on national television in the first instance anyway. It’s been circulating on SNS ever since, racking up a total number of views his debut music video could only have dreamed of. (Though that, too, has garnered extra attention from the whole thing.) One particular tweet in which the clip was embedded had been shared nearly 60,000 times, with the caption: _when Kang Daniel breathes in your direction and you bust your nut so hard you faint._

 

He wouldn’t mind nearly so much if it was only his untimely collapse from exhaustion that had become newsworthy gag material. Certainly, though Jihoon looks decidedly flushed and discomforted in the video, it was not as if he had it branded across his forehead that he was going into heat.

 

Unfortunately, witness accounts from anonymous staff or audience members had surfaced online and in the media too, giving the dreaded context to what would otherwise be an ambiguous and therefore fairly innocuous few seconds of video. Details about his heightened scent and of his slick, feverish state backstage after being carried off were more than enough to clarify for the public what they were seeing.

 

On top of the obvious mortification, reading about it had made Jihoon feel ill in a nauseating, disembodied sort of way, given he himself still had no concrete memory of what had taken place between his initial collapse and waking up in the hospital. It did not sit well that so many faceless netizens knew so much about something he himself was only still processing.

 

Apparently, he’d learnt from trawling the internet, the pheromones he’d released as his heat hit him with full force had sent a couple of Alpha members of the audience into rut, causing security concerns and a rush to get them isolated from the rest of the throng.

 

In short, it had been chaotic, and now Jihoon is having trouble seeing a way forward from this mess.

  


> Pannchoa: _Maroo Rookie Can't Take the Heat; Music Bank Collapse_
> 
>  
> 
> [+128, -25]  
> I wasn't gonna leave a comment but I want to say this... of course, he's free to choose to use suppressants or not but when it comes to public events like this shouldn't he have some common sense? Is he stupid or is he attention-seeking? Seriously…
> 
>  
> 
> [+126, -15]
> 
> Kang Daniel be careful!! Having this kind of shameless Omega around him… I don't like it…
> 
>  
> 
> [+111, -23]
> 
> Now it makes sense why Maroo suddenly debuted a solo artist with weak talent like this… how many execs did he sleep with before they agreed to debut him ㅋㅋㅋ
> 
>  
> 
> [+79, -88]
> 
> Kang Daniel took him off stage after, right? Damn lucky b*tch I wonder what his kn*t feels like
> 
>  
> 
> [+70, -91]
> 
> He might be a heatsl*t but he's f*cking pretty ㅋㅋ Hoon-ah come spend your heat with me next time, okay?
> 
>  
> 
> [+54, -10]
> 
> I cringe just seeing the screencaps…how embarrassing…
> 
>  
> 
> [+42, -2]
> 
> hey KBS this is karma for censoring so much unnecessary sh*t! you banned that girl group choreo last week but you let an Omega in heat on your broadcast? what a joke
> 
>  
> 
> [+37, -7]
> 
> Poor kid… debut stage is already nerve-wracking enough ㅜㅜ

  


Of course, people wondered why he hadn’t been taking suppressants, why his debut promotions had been aligned with his heat cycle. It didn’t occur to them that Jihoon’s being an Omega was as much a surprise to him as it was to them.

 

Some pointed out that the effectiveness of the heat suppressants available on the market differed between individuals and that, if the medication had failed him, such mishaps weren’t inconceivable. While others were convinced that it had purposely been a ploy; either to solicit advances from the senior idols he encountered on the show, or to garner attention from the media. The irony being that though the latter had occurred it was entirely undesirable and very much against his wishes regardless.

 

In spite of the occasional notes of sympathy, there’s a general distaste that has prevailed; as if members of the public were deeply offended that they were forced to witness something that ought to have been private, though it had been far from explicit. They spoke about it like the natural course of Jihoon’s biology was dirty and vulgar, as if they were somehow tarnished by the mere mention of it. As if they are somehow victims when it is Jihoon who has had to endure the upheaval of everything he thought he’d been certain of about himself and his place in the world.

 

They still talk about it, though. Despite how much they allegedly resent being made aware of the incident.

 

Further still, some view him through a different but just as damaging lens; believing that as an Omega he hadn’t wanted to give up the singular pleasures that his heat would bring and so deliberately chose not to take suppressants for that reason. That he is some kind of sexual deviant, for whom the prospect for heatsex - its risk and heightened intensity - is an intoxicating vice that outweighs his career aspirations or sense of public decency. Evidently, all Omegas are simultaneously beholden to their biological urges _and_ shameless embracers of them. What more reason could there be for them not to take part in the entertainment industry, or indeed any profession at all?

 

Perhaps worse still, are those that undermine all of Jihoon’s efforts and hard work, all those hours of blood and sweat and tears and self-doubt, by taking his Omega status as evidence that he had not earned his place on that stage. That his opportunity to debut and perform and make music was simply a whim of some higher up whose knot he’d been warming.

 

It is the exact reaction he’d feared; the exact reaction he’d seen play out against the rare few other Omegan idols before him. He has no doubt that he will be forced to follow their path all the way to its traumatic conclusion if nothing is done to halt the wave of condemnation threatening to swamp him. But really, what is there that can be done about it? Surely others had tried but nothing had turned the tide in the past.

 

Once home from the hospital, Minhyun had warned Jihoon away from social media for the next little while; the both of them knowing the vile would outweigh the supportive when it came to the public’s reactions to his so-called _scandal_.

 

Nevertheless, against his better judgement, Jihoon had dipped his toes into the turbulent waters, only to find himself floundering in the sea of hate comments. Perhaps he’d sought, amidst his curiosity, to find an anchor that would ground him; remind him that everything had been real and not simply a bad dream.

 

In one sense, now that he is house-bound, he feels insulated; as if not all that much has changed. Of course, in reality - everything has.

 

Maroo had halted his debut promotions, his next music show appearances cancelled for the time being. They said it’s so he has time to recuperate, but Jihoon knows that the more pressing issue for them is to get him out of the limelight so the hubbub dies down as soon as possible; and to avoid a repeat of the Music Bank incident.

 

Given how late he has presented, and how short his first heat was cut, Jihoon’s estrous cycle is expected to be more intense, more unpredictable, than for most. Or at least that’s what he remembers Dr Kim saying. In other words his next heat could come at anytime so it’s best he stay indoors for the time being.

 

_Why can’t I just start taking those, uh, suppressant things?_ he’d asked in confusion, desperate for anything that would allow him to complete his debut activities as normal.

 

_It’s advisable, not just for your body but from a psychological standpoint too, that you experience your first heat properly. After that you can decide whether or not to go on suppressants._

 

Acutely aware of his own inexperience in this area, he’s been taking the doctor’s advice on how to progress - but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

 

Given his current circumstances, and now the only Omega out of the company’s trainees and active idols, he wasn’t allowed to go back to the dorms. Instead, he’s holed up at Minhyun’s apartment.

 

Swaddled in blankets on the couch, glued to his phone, he does not feel any different but though it has barely been 48 hours already, he knows that with each passing day without a sign of his next heat, it will be harder and harder for him to accept that he is not still an Alpha; that this was not all just a mistake. It’s like some kind of fever dream from which he has woken to find everything the same as it was. At least in his own personal bubble.

 

Even so, he can’t ignore the whisper at the back of his mind that says; _no one believed you when you said you were an Alpha anyway._

 

It's true; more often than not people had thought they knew better, trusted the supposed evidence of their eyes over the word of the one they perused. They fixated on the way Jihoon's smaller frame ― his slim waist and dainty hands ― fit the mold for an omega, but in doing so, passed over the sturdy set of his broad shoulders and the fiery spirit that thrummed under his skin.

 

Though Jihoon, too, is flawed in his own presumption ― aggression or simply even an assertive nature are not so characteristic of the Alpha class as to be exclusive to it. Omegas (and Betas too, for that matter) can be just as possessive, just as confrontational, just as quick to anger as their Alpha counterparts.

 

Nonetheless, Jihoon has found solace in it ― in the readiness with which he stands his ground and challenges those who oppose, degrade and belittle him. Surely, with this fire burning in his blood he could never be the docile thing they seek to name and claim him as.

 

Surely, they must be wrong.

 

As it turns out, they were right - he is an Omega after all - and Jihoon fears what else they may have been right about. If, when they said he didn’t have what it takes - that he would only ever be good for one thing only, that was the truth of things also.

 

He’s rescued from his thoughts by the jingle of keys and an _I’m home!_ called from the entryway; and though the freshly fried chicken smells divine, it is the sight of his friend and manager he is most glad of. This won’t be the first time Minhyun quells Jihoon’s worries with a soothing voice and a fond curl of his lips. Jihoon might feel cast adrift as of now but he knows he can trust Minhyun to be his anchor, just as he always has.

 

“Hyung!” Jihoon greets brightly, tossing his phone down on the couch and leaping up only to step on the corner of one of his blankets and stumble.

 

Minhyun laughs good naturedly as Jihoon rights himself, bashful grin on his face.

 

“Excited to see me? Or the chicken?” the older asks as he moves to set everything down on the table.

 

“Can’t it be both?” Jihoon replies, always contrary, as he goes to grab glasses for the bottle of cola Minhyun’s bought.

 

It’s not until they’re nearly finished the box of chicken and Jihoon is contentedly sucking the grease from his fingers that the topic of conversation turns towards the elephant in the room; the looming question of _what next? How do we fix things?_

 

“I should tell you," Minhyun starts slowly, as if with care to how he words what’s next, “that we've been contacted by a few interested parties since the incident, wanting to establish a long-term benefactor relationship. With you.”

 

“I get the sense we're not talking about CF deals here," Jihoon says with a tight smile.

 

He may be newly debuted but he wasn't born yesterday. He knows that Minhyun is referring to sponsors; investors who finance an idol's career in exchange for exclusive personal benefits.

 

Not all sponsor requests are as seedy as one might expect. Some are allegedly content with wheeling their chosen idol out at their beloved nephew’s birthday party but, once the relationship is established, who's to say whether Jihoon could say no to a request for a favour of a more intimate nature with a power imbalance of that extent weighing on his shoulders.

 

Nonetheless the guarantee of some level of success, albeit with strings attached, is still attractive for some, despite the dark underside.

 

It's not uncommon for trainees to joke about wanting a sponsor; at 3am when they're laid out on the practice room floor, bone-tired and craving food they are neither able to afford nor allowed to eat. But Jihoon knows the partnerships, if they could be called that, are far from picturesque. It's playing with a fire that can destroy success just as easily as it fuels it.

 

Though, Jihoon figures, he doesn't have much to lose at this point, and he will have to start deciding what he is and is not prepared to do to stay on the path his debut had finally sent him on. If there’s anything he’s sure of, it’s that he’s not willing to let all his hard work so far go to waste so easily.

 

“And what did you tell them?” Jihoon asks neutrally.

 

“That you're still recuperating, but I would pass their message on to you when you were well enough.”

 

Jihoon tries to imagine the type of benefactors he might have caught the attention of by going into heat for all the world to see. The type that had seen him at his most vulnerable and decided they could get something out of it.

 

“Jihoon, ultimately that decision is up to you but I strongly advise against getting caught up with those kinds of people. You never know where it will end.”

 

“Except if I don’t, then I know exactly where it will end. Here and now, with my first time on stage also being my last.”

 

A certain demise, or an uncertain end. Sometimes there are no good choices to be had.

 

At Jihoon’s words, Minhyun’s mouth twists unhappily, a frown on his face not unlike a gathering storm cloud. As if he hadn’t really expected his charge to consider the offers, but was simply passing on the information out of transparency.

 

“Jihoon-”

 

“Like, you said, hyung. Ultimately it’s my decision,” Jihoon cuts Minhyun off, pasting an ill-fitting smile on his mouth.

 

“I suppose so.” Minhyun still looks wary, and Jihoon feels a little guilty for the extra tension that has bled into his manager’s shoulders.

 

“But I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, hyung. I must have other options,” Jihoon adds brightly, reaching for another piece of chicken. “You didn’t just come here to tell me some greasy corporate execs are after a piece of my ass, did you?”

 

“Not exactly, no,” Minhyun chokes a little at Jihoon’s bluntness but seems a little less on edge than before once he recovers. “Unfortunately, because this has all happened on live television we can’t pretend the event did not take place. I doubt we’ll even be able to pass it off as your rut given the details that have leaked into the media.”

 

Despite himself, Jihoon’s cheeks colour at the unintended pun.

 

“If you want to continue your path as an idol, as an unmated omega your options are effectively nonexistent. Even if you, personally, were willing to put up with the prejudice from the public, you’re too much of a liability for the company. They’ve already been slapped with a fine from KBS for allowing an unregistered Omega to attend. They’re going to want to cut ties; send you off with best wishes for your future health and success and wash their hands clean of the whole mess.”

 

If Jihoon didn’t know better, he’d call Minhyun’s tone defeatist. But he does know better, he knows Minhyun wouldn’t have come here without some kind of plan of action — and he trusts that plan of action isn’t just breaking bad news as gently as possible with chicken to soften the blow.

 

Albeit because it all still seems a little unreal, Jihoon refuses to accept this as the end of things for him. He’s only just started out, after all. So he shakes as best he can the initial pessimism that had swamped him at the hospital and tries to put a positive spin on things.

 

“Look at it this way though,” he starts, pointing his chicken bone at Minhyun with conviction. “I’ve already had my first heat in public. That’s about as bad as it gets. Their worst fears have already been realised; so surely it’s only up from here, right?”

 

Minhyun laughs a little at that. At the very least, he seems encouraged Jihoon still has a sense of humour about things. “Their worst fear is probably that you get pregnant so let’s not provoke the Universe and jinx ourselves here, alright?”

 

Jihoon chokes on his next bite of chicken. He'd forgotten that was a possibility now. An unlikely one, but something his body is capable of all the same. He coughs and swallows hastily, cheeks a little pink. “Point taken.”

 

“What makes or breaks us from this point onwards is public opinion. It might seem like the only thing to do is wait it out, try again in a few years after they’ve found someone new to hound and forgotten all about you.”

 

The idea of being relegated back to the practice room with no end in sight doesn’t sit well with Jihoon. It’s every trainee’s worst nightmare; having a false start and being thrown back into that abyss of angst and uncertainty (likely never to debut again.) That’s if the company can see any reward in keeping Jihoon on, which, by Minhyun’s assessment of the mood, isn’t seeming likely.

 

“Isn’t there something else we could do to try to- to change the attitude of the public?” Jihoon scrabbles for a strategy. “Something that would lift my image…”

 

He’s still young, barely twenty. He could voluntarily enlist in the notoriously gruelling marine corps and come back with the bulk of his career still ahead of him. He could… He could--

 

“There _is_ one approach we can take,” Minhyun starts and Jihoon is eager to leap at the first sign of real hope he’s been given.

 

“Anything,” he fervently assures his manager. “I’ll do anything. You know me, hyung, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

 

“I know, Hoon, it’s just- it’s not _just_ up to you.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“We’ll need Daniel’s cooperation also.”

 

“Surely he won’t have a problem with keeping quiet about this whole thing. I’m sure he can’t wait to move on from it.”

 

“It’s a much bigger ask than keeping quiet. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.”

 

Jihoon doesn’t know how to respond to that. What could they possibly want from Daniel beyond his commitment to pretend as if the whole incident had never happened?

 

“As I said, as an unmated omega in the industry you’re a liability, But, as a _mated_ omega…”

 

“Hyung, you’re-- you can’t seriously be suggesting what I think you’re-”

 

“Jihoon,” Minhyun says, warm but firm. “You said you’d do whatever it takes. I’m your friend and I want to help you through this as best I can. So before I put this idea to anyone else, I need to know if you meant what you said.”

 

He licks his lips nervously. He _had_ meant what he said. He’ll do whatever he can to cling to the dream he has worked so hard for; the dream Minhyun has supported him in thus far. If things have already gone to shit, then doesn’t he owe it to the both of them to give whatever chance of redemption he has a shot?

 

Taking a steadying breath, he nods. “Tell me what you have in mind.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The only thing the public loves more than a scandal is a fairytale romance.

 

The idea of _true mates_ is something enshrined as the romantic ideal in modern media even if in reality, few people find theirs. Jihoon himself doesn’t know if he believes in soulmates of that kind, in truth he hasn’t had the time or the inclination to give it much thought. It was not an ideology to which his household had avidly taken, though raised as an Alpha, that any future partner of Jihoon’s would be an Omega was an assumed fact. Now, of course, that seems to have changed.

 

Now, as an Omega, his place in society is so strongly tied to his relationship or lack thereof with an Alpha that it is no longer something Jihoon can afford not to think about.

 

In an exemplary feat of cognitive dissonance, with the mythos of _true mates_ comes the connotation of the purest, most genuine of connections in spite of the carnal dynamic upon which that relationship is founded. The wolves within them that desire each other have never struck Jihoon as anything other than decidedly base, but it’s the broader idealism that prevails among the community that he now wants to harness for his own sake.

 

The vulgar narrative construed around him from the events at Music Bank is something he can take back and reshape, if only into the form of a love story. Manufactured in a way to which the public would be none the wiser.

 

Rather than an unwitting act of public indecency, his encounter with Daniel that sent him into heat could become a shining moment of epiphany. The moment he met his true mate in the most unexpected of circumstances, over which he had no control, but should nonetheless be a source of joy rather than shame.

 

The unlikely pair of an Alpha and Omega of such starkly different status; one beloved by the nation, one a relative unknown. Perfect strangers until the Universe saw fit to bring them together.

 

But any relationship between them would be against the odds; the profession that brought them together the same thing that would keep them apart.

 

The only thing the public loves more than a scapegoat, is an underdog.

 

Crucial to the transformation, is the good will and good reputation of one Kang Daniel, whom Jihoon must shamelessly enlist in this endeavour if he has any hope of winning back public favour in order to stand on stage as an artist in the future.

 

At first, Jihoon had wanted to tell Minhyun he’d been reading too many romance novels while waiting for him backstage, but even so he couldn’t deny the growing feeling that, of all his chances at restoring his reputation, this was his best one. He just has to work out how to make the pitch.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Late evening finds the Maroo offices effectively deserted, and the meeting about to take place feels all the more clandestine for it, even though Minhyun had requested use of one of the negotiation rooms on the upper floor and been approved.

 

It's a private meeting but though it is only himself and Daniel with their respective managers in the room, Jihoon still feels incredibly exposed. That being said, even if it were just him and Daniel, he would still be exceedingly on edge given what he is about to ask of the older idol.

 

_Remember_ , Minhyun had reminded him before they went in. _We’re just here seeking a business relationship._

 

Daniel’s side have already received the proposal, draft contract attached, so the content of the meeting will be far from a surprise, though kept confidential from any beyond the parties directly involved. It should be an encouragement, really, that Daniel has even agreed to the meeting in the first place. At the very least, Daniel is prepared to hear him out and even though that is what Jihoon _wants_ , he can’t help but be a little suspicious.

 

Sure, they have offered a cut of Jihoon’s earnings to Daniel’s side as part of the contract, but Daniel himself doesn’t seem one who cares all that much about money or material things. Not to mention, he’s successful enough in his career that he could probably make what they’re offering in just one day of shooting for a CF.

 

Despite being effectively house-bound on Doctor’s orders the past few days, it’s important to Jihoon that this meeting take place in person; that both he and Daniel are present given the personal nature of the proposal.

 

Unlike their last encounter, Jihoon does not have the benefit of heat suppressants flooding through his system. He does, however, have an inhibitor with him in case being in the same vicinity as Daniel suddenly sends him into heat again. He and Minhyun have even rehearsed the manoeuvre where the latter stabs the medical auto-injection device into the flesh of his outer thigh through his clothing.

 

(Minhyun has been perhaps a little too enthusiastic in practice, and Jihoon couldn’t help but wonder if that was because of the criticism his care of Jihoon had been exposed to last time. Or, perhaps he was just getting back at Jihoon for being a brat.)

 

Jihoon is as prepared as he can be, but all the same he can’t rid himself of the persistent feeling that there is something he is forgetting to account for.

 

In stark contrast to their last meeting, the Kang Daniel Jihoon is confronted with across the table is impeccably dressed, pristine in his shirt and slacks with not a hair out of place, as if he’s just walked off the set of one of his photoshoots. A far cry from the rumpled clothing and dark rings under his eyes that Jihoon remembers from the hospital.

 

He looks every bit the star that he is, and all the more intimidating for it.

 

_I don’t understand why he’d give me the time of day, hyung,_ Jihoon had protested to Minhyun when he himself first heard the proposal. _What could he possibly gain from agreeing?_

 

_God knows why, maybe it’s just the Alpha in him, but he’s already taken some interest in you; he didn’t have to stay at the hospital as long as he did. He didn’t have to be there_ at all _if he didn’t want to._

 

Minhyun had hit on a point Jihoon too had been puzzled by, but surely that wouldn’t be enough to induce Daniel to agree to a deal like this. As if sensing Jihoon’s skepticism, Minhyun had swiftly gone on to add:

 

_Even so, it’s practically common knowledge that Daniel’s mother wants him to settle down with a nice Omega sooner rather than later. Do you remember his appearance on_ Mamma Mia _a while back? No? Anyway, it came up then, and I think there’s a substantial chance this arrangement could be desirable for the both of you._

 

It was enough encouragement for Jihoon to at least take the chance, but it’s still a big risk nonetheless. After all, why would someone like Daniel, who has everything he could want at his fingertips, agree to a fake relationship with a rookie like Jihoon whose reputation has already been marred from the get go?

 

But if Jihoon wants this to work, he can’t go in expecting to fail.

 

After all, the arrangement isn’t without benefit to Daniel. Whatever good reputation Jihoon gains is Daniel’s to share in, along with any related profits. Jihoon just has to convince him that the benefit is worth the bother.

 

“It’s good to see you are looking well,” Daniel’s manager says to Jihoon after the formal greetings are dispensed with. The sentiment appears genuine, accompanied by a warm smile rather than the leer Jihoon would otherwise expect.

 

“Thank you, Jisung-ssi,” he says inclining his head politely. “I’m feeling much better. Thank you as well for making time in your busy schedule to meet today.”

 

As he speaks, Jihoon lets his eyes travel over to Daniel, but the older man seems content to let his manager do the talking for now.

 

“I have to admit,” begins Jisung, “that we were quite surprised to receive your proposal, but Daniel here didn’t want to dismiss it out of hand. He wanted to talk to you about it.”

 

_Oh did he now?_ Jihoon once again looks over to the established idol with a polite smile but something akin to mirth dancing in his eyes. Daniel looks unruffled but Jihoon can’t help but wonder if that is despite wishing his manager hadn’t been so blunt about the idol’s apparent personal interest.

 

“I appreciate it, then, that you want to hear me out,” he says directly to Daniel this time. “It might seem an unusual request, but it’s important to me, and I think it can be of benefit to you too.”

 

The corner of Daniel’s mouth lifts, in something not quite a smile and he leans forward, clasping his hands together on the table in front of him. “The proposal I read was quite...interesting. I’d like to hear it from your mouth, though. Alone.”

 

Jihoon feels Minhyun tense beside him but he doesn’t take his eyes off the man across the table from him. “Ah, just the two of us?” Jihoon clarifies. Stalling.

 

“Yes, just us. After all, that’s who the contract most concerns, is it not?” Daniel turns his gaze to Minhyun, and then Jisung.

 

The latter fidgets with the documents in his hands and Jihoon is unable to decipher the look Daniel receives from his manager.

 

“Ah, then, Minhyun-ssi, perhaps we can give them some time to themselves?” Jisung proposes. “I don’t know about you, but honestly I could do with a coffee.”

 

It isn’t so much that Minhyun ignores Jisung’s proposition as it is he waits for a sign from Jihoon.

 

“Coffee, what a good idea,” Jihoon intones, telling Minhyun with his eyes that _I’m fine, just go. It will be more productive this way._

 

Minhyun sighs and rises from his seat, turning to Jisung and saying with a barely genuine smile. “Why not? There’s a nice cafe around the corner that should still be open around this time.”

 

Jihoon stands out of respect as the others leave the room, dipping a quick bow before the door clicks shut, leaving the two of them alone. Before he can take his seat again, Daniel joins him on his feet, hands in his pockets as he makes his way around to Jihoon’s side, bringing them into much closer quarters now without the table between them.

 

On the outside, Jihoon maintains an unfazed expression but his heart jitters in his ribcage, restless and on edge. He wonders how much of that response is the Omega in him reacting to Daniel's Alpha, and how much of it is instead the realisation that he has placed his future prospects squarely in the hands of a man he barely knows.

 

Daniel leans back against the lip of the negotiation table, dropping his gaze as he inspects the documents splayed out on upon it with a casual air that makes Jihoon more apprehensive than it puts him at ease.

 

The younger opens his mouth to speak but Daniel beats him to it.

 

“I thought you didn't need my help," he says nonchalantly. Neutral and direct rather than snide like might be expected.

 

Even so, Jihoon’s stomach drops at the words. At the reminder that his one path forwards has already been blocked by none other than himself.

 

This is what Jihoon has failed to account for; the terrible first impression he made at the hospital and Daniel’s potential delight in holding grudges.

 

“How did it go, again?" Daniel ponders, picking up a fountain pen from where it lay amongst the papers and twirling it idly between his fingers. “ _I don't need or want your help,_ ” he recites the cold tirade he’d received from Jihoon that day at the hospital, word for word.

 

Jihoon makes to speak again but Daniel continues before he can get a word in. _“I’m fine on my own and I don't need anything… from the likes of you_.”

 

He draws out the last part, letting his eyes travel up to meet Jihoon's. The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile Jihoon would almost call hurt if it wasn’t so clearly amused at his expense. “As it turns out there _is_ something _the likes of me_ can do for you now, isn’t there Jihoon-ssi?”

 

Daniel's words raise goosebumps on his skin.

 

Jihoon knows where this is going.

 

In fact, he'd known to expect it from the start given the tenuous incentive for Daniel's involvement.

 

There is indeed something Daniel can do for Jihoon. It is simply a question of whether there is something Jihoon can do for Daniel in return.

 

(And whether it is something Jihoon is willing to give.)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! let me know what you thought ♡♡
> 
> it's funny i went back to my original outline and i still haven't gotten to the point where i thought the first chapter would end djsjsnds
> 
> ♡ [cc](https://curiouscat.me/oswinne)


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon tries to retrospectively remove his foot from his mouth. Daniel (potentially) gets himself a beard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends ♡ this semester has been a tough one so if you've been waiting for this update, tysm for your patience! writing chaptered fic is still fairly new for me so i'm aware the quality of writing suffers while i work out how to do this, but i hope this is worth the wait all the same :)
> 
> i'm posting this at like 4am jsjsj so if there are any glaring errors, i apologise! i'll be back to edit again soon xx

_...“As it turns out there_ is _something_ the likes of me _can do for you now, isn’t there Jihoon-ssi?”_

 

The only thing worse than getting off on the wrong foot, is forgetting the extent of your own misdemeanour and then having the other party rub it in your face.

 

If it were anyone else, Jihoon would probably find humour in the way his words have been thrown back at him. If this were a drama, he’d be rolling his eyes in amusement at the naivety of the protagonist, as the surprise written across their face is frozen in the frame as the episode ends. But it’s not as funny when it’s his own prospects that have taken a downward turn. It’s not funny when he thinks about what it could cost him.

 

Seating arrangement abandoned, the physical distance between the two of them borders on familiar rather than professional ― mitigated only by the way Daniel, back to the table, merely slants his body towards Jihoon and does not face him directly. Even so, it is still much harder for Jihoon to block out Daniel's dominating Alpha aura compared to when he was seated across from him. Up close, the scent of peach is cloyingly sweet - _smug?_ \- and it leaves Jihoon a little lightheaded. He wonders if Daniel is projecting more strongly on purpose, or if the Alpha in him is just delighted to be in such proximity to an Omega.

 

Whatever the reason, the sweet pheromones do not calm Jihoon so much as make his heart race in warning. He hopes that Daniel, for his part, is not able to sense any sign of weakness in him.

 

There are two things that flash through Jihoon’s mind in the wake of Daniel's rhetorical:

 

 _Is he going to make me grovel?_ and _Am I going to let him?_

 

Thus far Jihoon has taken Daniel’s willingness to meet as an encouragement, but now he sees it in a drastically different light. Though seemingly relaxed, though his words were not laced with even a hint of aggression, Daniel’s first move has been to remind Jihoon of his past transgressions.

 

What occurs to Jihoon now, as it hadn’t before, is that Daniel may simply be here in pursuit of personal amusement. He might intend to push and prod at Jihoon’s vulnerability until he breaks; to tantalise an offer of help while all the while testing how much pressure need be applied until Jihoon is on his knees, humbled and repentant and ready to do his bidding.

 

Perhaps, his ego has been bruised and he seeks to gratify himself as a means of salving that wound.

 

It would be incredibly cruel, especially when that for which Jihoon must apparently atone is far from severe. His words may have been sharp but they came from a place of hurt at a time of overwhelming stress, and they certainly weren’t unprovoked.

 

Jihoon himself is not sure he believes that someone as seemingly sweet as Daniel could be capable of such cruelty.

 

But Daniel is also an Alpha.

 

Though not raised as an Omega, thus lacking the social instinct gained from walking through the world in those shoes, Jihoon has experienced, first hand, the allowances made for those Alphas who feel entitled enough to exact arbitrary punishment on those more vulnerable than themselves. Jihoon is not primed to enter every interaction with an Alpha wary of harm or manipulation, but he is not blind to what his former class of society can, and is expected to be, capable of.

 

Today marks his first foray into navigating his life in light of that. The social accommodations for Alphas no longer to his unheeded benefit, but his detriment.

 

Dr. Kim and even Daniel himself had reminded Jihoon that contrary to abundant misconception, he has been an Omega all his life. It might be true in a biological sense, but today is Jihoon’s first day learning what it means to occupy the social space reserved for an Omega.

 

Barely able to remember the fleeting moments of his first heat, Jihoon has struggled to accept his Omega status as reality. It feels like nothing changed other than people’s perception of him. That small amendment on his medical record something easily forgotten if the media circus wasn't so set on constantly reminding him.

 

But as Jihoon tries his best not to fidget under Daniel’s attention, he realises that he is no longer afforded the luxury of disbelief. It is in this moment, where power dynamics outside his control have forced him to apprehend a threat unique to - but shared by - all Omegas, that he begins to realise _this is real and this is my life now_.

 

Treading lightly so as not to invite the ire of an Alpha.

 

_Is this what it means to be an Omega?_

 

Licking his dry lips, Jihoon tries to work out how to respond. Tries to find the delicate balance between sincerity, dignity, and what Daniel wants to hear.

 

It’s a given that in these negotiations he will have to make concessions, but he will have to be careful of the precedent he sets should this joint venture go ahead. He wants Daniel to agree, but not because he thinks Jihoon will be a doormat that yields to his every whim.

 

“I...I’m sorry I spoke harshly the last time we met. It was unfair of me to pin the blame on you for something that was outside both of our control, but I hope you can understand that I was...in shock.”

 

 _Grieving_ , Jihoon might almost say, since that was truly what it was; grieving the loss of a future and all the effort wasted thus far in getting there. Grieving the loss of the person he had known himself to be. He knows the feeling all too well to mistake it.

 

Jihoon watches carefully for any sign of satisfaction from Daniel at his words. Any sign that he has placated the grudge presumably burning a hole through the other man’s rib cage. He finds none, and he understands why when Daniel opens his mouth to respond:

 

“Don’t misunderstand, I don’t want an apology. What I want is to understand why you would approach me, of all people, when by all accounts I seem to have ruined your life.”

 

It’s unnerving how matter of fact Daniel is as he speaks, but then again, Jihoon reminds himself, he is the one with nothing to lose. He is the one for whom walking out that door without looking back would cost nothing. Well, almost nothing.

 

Jihoon shifts uncomfortably. “I didn’t say that.” _Not exactly._

 

“You might as well have,” shrugs Daniel. “You made clear you thought I was the cause of your misfortune, so tell me why you suddenly think I’m the solution. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me.”

 

“And if _I_ were you, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me either.”

 

Jihoon, embarrassed, can only imagine what Daniel had to put up with even in the brief moments he spent with Jihoon as he entered his heat. The possibility of his trying to scent Daniel, or worse, flashes through Jihoon's mind with horror.

 

Jihoon swallows. “And yet…”

 

_And yet here we are._

 

_In the same room, alone, and you couldn’t even stay on your side of the table._

 

“I’m here because I want to be. Can you say the same?” Daniel raises an eyebrow.

 

“What? Why would you ask that?” _Of the two of us, aren’t I the one who clearly wants to be here?_

 

“I want to know that this is your idea.”

 

Jihoon laughs a little. “This isn’t a question of artistic integrity, why do you care whose idea it is?”

 

“Because,” Daniel says, voice mellow in contrast to Jihoon’s sharp incredulity, “I want to know that if I sign these papers, I’ll be helping you, not tying you down to something only the higher ups want.”

 

Jihoon’s expression warps in aborted amusement at the irony of Daniel’s statement, considering the lengths he had to go to in convincing the higher ups that this was a good idea and wouldn’t completely blow up in their faces.

 

Admittedly they had enjoyed the thought of a professional, if unconventional, connection to _the_ Kang Daniel, and Jihoon had managed to convince them that if it all went to shit and Daniel blabbed on him to the press for good measure, then it was easy enough to pin Jihoon as a rogue agent acting in deluded desperation, absolving Maroo of any untoward involvement.

 

Either way they’re going to drop him, he might as well give this a shot first.

 

“If you want an honest answer, then no, I don’t want to be here. Not exactly.”

 

At his words, Jihoon can see Daniel’s already fairly neutral expression shutter even more, but he continues, “I would much rather be promoting my first mini album and maybe filming a variety show if I was lucky enough to get an invitation. I don’t want to be here, at the end of my wits, asking a stranger for a favour I’m not entitled to.”

 

“But?”

 

“It’s already been decided for me that I won’t get an idyllic debut like that― or even a boring, unremarkable one for that matter," Jihoon says with a wry twist of his lips. _"But…_ I don’t want to give up on myself like my company has given up on me. I don’t want to write myself off like the public has.”

 

Jihoon thinks he does well to sound more cooly determined than heated and bitter. “I know I have more to offer as an artist and more to explore as a person, musically, and I’m determined to give myself the chance, somehow. So, _yes I want to be here_ if it means a chance like that, and I’d much rather be here than in the penthouse suite of any of the ‘sponsors’ that came out of the woodwork wanting to buy me.”

 

Daniel nods slowly, as if processing all that Jihoon has said, but there is something tight in the set of his jaw. Presumably the same something that has his hand gripping the edge of the table between them, knuckles white, but Jihoon is already ploughing ahead, so eager to finish making his case that he notices neither the additional tension nor the sour note of unripened peach that has taken to the air.

 

“I know that what I want, what my dreams are, doesn’t really matter to you. Rookies come and go in this industry all the time and I’m just one of many.”

 

Jihoon wonders if Daniel remembers what it’s like, if there ever comes a point where one forgets the uncertainty that dwelt in the shadows of the early years, like a spectre that seemed like it would never leave.

 

If there _is_ such a point, then surely Kang Daniel, the nation’s golden boy of 7 years, has reached it.

 

“I don’t think I’m owed any more of a chance than I’ve already gotten, than anyone else has gotten,” Jihoon is careful to clarify, “but it would be a waste if I give up now. It just so happens that the narrative that helps me, also helps you.”

 

Daniel raises a curious, if skeptical, eyebrow and invites in a measure tone: “Go on then, I’m interested. How exactly does the fiction of us dating help _me_?”

 

“Sunbae, you haven’t had a single dating scandal your whole career, have you? Not that I can remember anyway.” Jihoon himself has never been a dedicated fan but all things Kang Daniel are treated as a matter of national interest, so a basic awareness of the life and times of the nation’s sweetheart is fairly inescapable.

 

Daniel nods in confirmation, albeit a little confused. “That’s right, I’ve been lucky.”

 

“I guess you could say it’s lucky, but it’s starting to look a bit suspicious for you, isn’t it? People are starting to think you might prefer Alphas.”

 

It hadn’t only been Jihoon who was subject to rampant speculation in the aftermath of the Music Bank incident. There were plenty of faceless Netizens eager to speculate on why Daniel had appeared so unaffected by Jihoon, why he hadn’t noticed there was an Omega going into heat right behind him until there was a commotion. Daniel’s many publicly close relationships with other Alphas were thrown into the mix, put under the microscope in a way they hadn’t been before.

 

If an Omega in the entertainment industry is too promiscuous for the public to handle, then an Alpha pursuing relationships with his own kind is downright intolerable.

 

Daniel is silent.

 

Jihoon starts to get nervous.

 

Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up such a potentially sensitive point, but he hasn’t done so with the intention of holding it over Daniel’s head. God knows that if Jihoon had become acquainted with his Omega status in private, then he’d have loathed anyone who sought to cash in on the urgency of the secret.

 

In broaching the subject, all Jihoon has wanted to do is highlight the fact that both of them are at the mercy of rumour and it’s possible for them to counter that challenge together.

 

“I don’t care either way and I’m not asking you to confirm or deny it,” Jihoon says firmly. Reassuringly. “It’s just...an objective observation that dispelling those kinds of rumours is far from unhelpful for your career. If we present as a couple then the media will be looking where we want them to look. I regain respectability by virtue of our fairytale faux-relationship and you get a buffer against invasion of privacy. We both get something we want and I’m happy to compensate you for the extra trouble, as per the contract.” Jihoon gestures to the document laying almost forgotten on the table between them.

 

 _Please say something. Anything_ , Jihoon agonises in silence, holding his breath to find out whether he has totally blown this.

 

All this time, Daniel has been leant rather casually against the table, all but sitting upon it as he listens to Jihoon speak, but now he stands, a little abruptly and Jihoon prays it isn’t with intention to head towards the door.

 

Daniel stands, turns, and leans down to sign the contract.

 

Jihoon’s sigh of relief is only released halfway when Daniel freezes, pen hovering above the paper. The older man straightens and turns back to Jihoon.

 

“I’ll sign, but on one condition.”

 

Jihoon swallows, apprehension clawing at his throat as he realises he has not successfully persuaded Daniel away from making additional demands to even the advantage.

 

Jihoon straightens his shoulders and looks the other man squarely in the eye. “What is it that you want?”

 

"If we do this,” Daniel says, gazing down at Jihoon with the most intensity he’s shown so far that evening, “you don't accept patronage from anyone else. You don't network with any benefactors, you don't accept any donations and most importantly, you do not spend your heat with anyone but me."

 

Jihoon's stomach drops like a stone for the second time since he and Daniel have been left alone.

 

Daniel might as well have said _You're mine and mine alone_ , and Jihoon shivers as his mind supplies him with that very image; Daniel breathing hotly down his neck, teeth grazing the tender skin as he stakes his claim andー

 

Heart hammering with a mixture of fright and indignation, Jihoon wrenches himself from the nightmarish imagining. Lest it trigger his next heat. Lest the spark of fear turn into something else entirely.

 

Jihoon takes in a ragged breath. Just because he predicted Daniel would make requests of him, and though he knew in theory there was a possibility of Daniel demanding such a thing, that doesn't mean Jihoon genuinely thought Daniel would treat his biology like an invitation. That he would seek to lay claim to his body out of misplaced entitlement.

 

After all, the older idol's sweet and kind public image still persisted in Jihoon's mind despite their less than warm encounters thus far. He simply didn’t realise how entrenched the impression was until he saw it contradicted so strongly right before his eyes.

 

Jihoon opens his mouth to object to the presumption; to argue, but Daniel cuts him off:

 

"You can spend your heats alone for all I care," Daniel continues. Jihoon halts in his righteous anger for a moment in order to squint at the other man —if he didn't know any better, he'd say Daniel looks…flustered. "But bringing someone else into the equation is a risk I can't tolerate. I'm willing to help you if you want it but it's by no means necessary, as long as you don't involve anyone else."

 

Swallowing dryly, Jihoon nods, acquiescing that even if there is an underlying Alpha territoriality to Daniel's demands, they still go a long way to mitigating risk of their exposure as a fraud. For that reason, he can accept the conditions. It's not like he'll need to accept Daniel's offer of help anyway, he can manage by himself.

 

"Okay," Jihoon voices his agreement and Daniel looks grimly satisfied. "Anything else?"

 

There's a heavy pause but Daniel doesn't make to fill the expectant silence other than to say, "No. Just that."

 

“Okay,” Jihoon says again. “Then I guess we’re agreed.”

 

"I guess we are."

 

He watches Daniel sign both copies of the contract as if through a haze. To say that Jihoon is taken aback by the relative ease with which Daniel has accepted the proposal would be an understatement.

 

Jihoon can only think that this must mean that he or Minhyun was right; either way Daniel's familial interests _are_ served by his appearing to be involved with an Omega, whether to appease his mother or hide a facet of his private life ー or both.

 

What other reason could there be?

 

No Alpha, especially one as charismatic as Kang Daniel, merely looking for an Omegan fucktoy would be bothered involving themselves with Jihoon when there are so many strings attached.

 

There’s no way to be sure of exactly what is going through Daniel’s head but when it comes down to it, it doesn’t matter. Somehow, be it courtesy of a miracle or the ego of an Alpha, Jihoon has this one glimmering sliver of a chance at the future he’s pursued for so long. So he’s going to seize it with both hands and deal with the consequences later.

 

Jihoon takes a steadying breath as he signs his own name with a shaky hand. God, he hopes he’s made the right decision going through with this concocted plan. But this is his best chance of keeping a hold on what has finally started to come together.

 

It has to work, he'll make sure of it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

With Daniel on side and the possibility of rejection no longer hanging over his head, Jihoon finds sitting still even more intolerable. The path ahead is the clearest its been recently and all he wants to do is race along it at a break-neck speed; get as far as he can before another obstacle blocks his path. Whether it be on stage, in the recording studio, or simply the old practice rooms; he wants to break back into the public life or the creative sphere as soon as possible.

 

They’ve only _just_ sealed the deal and something inside Jihoon is already agitating to do _more_.

 

But, as with everything, Jihoon has to have patience, Minhyun reminds him. Slowly, step by step, they’ll progress past the chaos of the last couple of weeks. The attitudes of the public will not change overnight just because of one dating announcement. An announcement that has not even been made yet, and won’t be for a little while, in fact.

 

To avoid making them look hasty, insincere and - worst of all - _manufactured_ , it’s been decided that an official statement about Jihoon and Daniel’s ‘relationship’ won’t be released until there’s been a sort of grace period; a little time in which they can drop hints, and get to know each other first. If they’re lucky, they will be able to pick up a dating rumour that originates on its own and simply affirm, if embellish, it. If Jihoon is lucky, the seven day cooling off period stipulated in the contract will pass by without Daniel changing his mind and distancing himself from the whole affair.

 

That’s Jihoon’s greatest fear, at this point. That the next time he sees Daniel, it will be as if waking from a dream and the older idol will tell him this has all been a mistake. Though the non-disclosure clause aims to ensure Daniel won’t speak of the arrangement even if he does withdraw, Jihoon will still be left at a loss. Left with only the choice of accepting far more dubious offers of help, or facing the fact that his career as he knows it is over.

 

“Alright! Enough navel-gazing!” Minhyun says as he opens their first bottle of soju. “Aren’t we supposed to be celebrating?”

 

They’ve stopped at one of the street-side _pojangmacha_ near the company for a drink and something to eat after the successful meeting. Jisung and Daniel had declined the invitation that was extended to them out of politeness more than anything. After all, Kang Daniel isn’t the kind of person who can just stop anywhere for a drink without being recognised. Jihoon, on the other hand, is a rookie and not a popular one at that. Despite the recent debacle, he is not so readily recognised, especially when most of the other patrons are salarymen on their way home from work. Jihoon doesn’t have the benefit, or the disadvantage, of being projected into their living rooms from their television screen for the last seven years.

 

“Hyung, no one says that,” Jihoon hiccups a laugh as he insists on taking the bottle from his manager’s grasp and pouring a shot for Minhyun, hand resting on his elbow as he does so.

 

“Says what?” Minhyun smiles in thanks and returns the favour.

 

“ _Navel-gazing_.”

 

“I’d have less reason to say it, if you didn’t do it so often,” Minhyun replies lightly, clearly uncaring whether his turn of phrase is outdated or not. “C’mon, focus on the positive things for now! Leave the next steps for tomorrow. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Jihoon concedes with a smile, and copies Minhyun as he raises his shot glass in a toast.

 

“To a successful pitch, a bright future, and the fairytale romance of the decade!” Minhyun announces with a huzzah that has Jihoon rolling his eyes, outwardly embarrassed by his hyung’s cheesiness but inwardly, there’s a warm feeling that spreads through his chest even before he feels the soju burning down his throat.

 

“I think you mean _the con of the decade_ ,” Jihoon offers instead as he sets down his glass.

 

“Or the acting gig! Imagine how natural romance dramas are going to be for you after this.”

 

“Except, if all goes well, no one will _know_ that we’re acting.”

 

“Still,” Minhyun shrugs, “a chance to hone your skills nonetheless. Everything is an opportunity!”

 

“Yeah, though I can’t imagine many people would find it hard to pretend to be in love with Kang Daniel,” Jihoon says absent-mindedly.

 

“Oh?” Minhyun raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to interrogate further, but Jihoon doesn’t even have the chance to pick up on the implication before he is distracted by a notification lighting up his phone.

 

He’s lucky Maroo hadn’t confiscated it, but maybe they’d seen no point when kicking him out was still on the cards. Originally, he’d been allowed the device on the condition of signing a Technology and Social Media Responsibility Agreement. Ironic that, in the end, Jihoon hadn’t even needed his phone or an internet connection to cause a scandal.

 

“Oh my God-!” Jihoon exclaims, reaching for it when he sees what it is.

 

“You only react like that to two things,” Minhyun observes placidly, sitting back resigned to the knowledge he will only have half Jihoon's attention for the next few moments. “Free food, or when there’s something new released by that music producer you like. What’s their name? Ku…?”

 

“‘ _KUMO_ ’,” Jihoon answers without looking up, busy unlocking his phone to open the Twitter notification. “But this isn’t a new track,” he says, shoulders slumping in disappointment. “It’s just a song r... _oh my God, hyung!_ ”

 

“What?” Minhyun asks in mild alarm, not sure whether this stage of Jihoon’s reaction is good or bad.

 

In answer, Jihoon simply shows him the screen where the tweet is displayed. It’s nothing much, just a love heart emoji and a screenshot from Genie. Usually, Jihoon cherishes any time his favourite producer posts a song they’re listening to; as silly as it seems, it makes him feel a bit closer to the person behind the name. Like a clue, even, because despite working with plenty of well-known artists, they stay anonymous and out of the public eye entirely. Jihoon is in the habit of putting such songs on repeat himself, but this time-- he doesn’t have to.

 

“Is that...?” Minhyun asks incredulously as he squints at the familiar album art on the screen. “Is that _your song?_ ”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! ♡ let me know what you thought; constructive criticism is always welcome
> 
> ♡ [cc](https://curiouscat.me/oswinne)


End file.
